


Shall We Dance?

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-03 00:38:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19452781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: One dance leads to another leads to another.Inspired by:   Mauro Caiazza and Daniela Kizyma doing a Sexy Tango to 'Sway' by Michael Buble.  Available via YouTube.





	Shall We Dance?

The job had been a real bitch and massive in scope, taking the coordinated efforts of three full teams, several specialist team members co-opted from even more units, the backup of two additional teams waiting in place to assist in the extraction and exit, along with several Contract Agents. Exactly which and even how many Contract Agents was unknown to most, since many of those were still working undercover. Still, it had been one hell of an operation, and considering no one had really (really, deep in their hearts) thought they could pull it off, one hell of a coup. Even the most fervent detractors of Special Forces/Special Ops could hardly deny that. They might have tried, of course, but the swell of approval in the halls in that august building prevented their attempting it, not really wanting to get their heads handed to them.

The operation itself? That was still considered Top Secret, of course, but, sheerly by coincidence, at the same time as the return of all those operatives, there was the advent of several individuals formerly experiencing the 'genial hospitality' of the Germans, now recuperating from the effects of that hospitality. Of course, there was no uproar since it had not been public knowledge that those individuals had ever gone missing. 

Indeed, if the public had ever gotten wind of the sheer scope and magnitude of the inroads Hitler's operatives had made into the ranks of government, even royalty, of several of the Allied countries, the loss of morale would have been devastating! 

Some of the governments were even looking out of the corner of their eyes at each other, fearing one or more would give way to the implied pressure and back away, leaving the rest to battle Hitler alone. In more than one seat of government, grim plans were being made for what to do in that eventuality. Churchill's comments were said to have been particularly pithy.

Needless to say, there was some wiping of brows and cries of relief in Whitehall, Washington, and a few other places, including the Palace. Particularly the Palace - she'd TOLD that dratted man to be more careful, not so trusting!!

Richard Evans, nephew and heir to Lord Ashcroft, couldn't stop beaming with delight. He had been the one arguing that, yes, this COULD be done, and indeed MUST be done, and had come up with the general plan of action, even to selecting the men, the agents to be involved. In fact the doctors found it most disconcerting to see that broad smile while they were patching him together again, to hear that satisfied chuckle while the nurses changed his dressings. 

Evans accepted the hearty congratulations, but steadily denied taking the credit. "Yes, the idea was perhaps mine, but it would have come to nothing without the men and women who pulled the thing off! It's their triumph, far more than mine! In looking back, I STILL don't see how it all really worked, you know? It was like watching a ballroom full of experienced and highly talented dancers, all swirling around, purposeful, never missing a step, never getting in each other's way, yet never hesitating in their own direction; truly a thing of beauty! Miracle workers, some of the bravest and most talented people I've ever met!"

Perhaps it was that picture of the ballroom, the dancers, which had come to him so clearly, that gave him the idea.

And Evans determined, with the help of his sister Elizabeth, to make his opinion known, along with delivering sincere congratulations and thanks to everyone involved. Some thought that only fitting. Others that it was an unusually kind thought, if somewhat whimsical. Some found it an appallingly distasteful plan; after all the teams, the agents, might be useful, granted, certainly had their own odd set of skills, and yes, of course, everyone was glad to get that messy situation over and done with, but really, there should be reasonable limits to such open adulation! After all, the people involved were just doing their jobs!

Unfortunately, one of those of that last opinion was Lord Robert Ashcroft. In fact, this idea of a social event involving the hoi polloi of the teams and various agents made him shudder in revulsion, especially since his niece and nephew, Richard and Elizabeth Evans, intended to host the event in his late brother's home. 

Oh, very well, so it was now technically his nephew's home, though Elizabeth also resided there, but it was highly inappropriate, in his view. Sometimes he despaired of Richard ever learning to behave as he should! Richard was his heir, after all, and it was discomfiting to think of the boy someday stepping into the Ashcroft shoes while maintaining such unacceptable views and associating with such unacceptable individuals.

He'd thought to wash his hands of the entire matter, though, just shudder and ignore the vulgar happening, until it became obvious that Richard, though released from hospital, would most likely not be able to actively host the event. 

And as for postponing the social evening? That grim explanation had seemed terribly crude. 

"Uncle, they are alive this week. With the kind of work they do, that just might not be the case next week or the week after. Come to think of it, I might not either; things DO happen, you know. No, the evening will happen as planned, with as many as possible of those involved in attendance. Elizabeth has already started writing out the invitations."

Well, Ashcroft could hardly leave Elizabeth to manage this unseemly lot, after all, and he had a few thoughts on ways to appropriately deal with these men. (The thought of women even being involved in military operations he found distasteful enough to make him ignore their existence, and surely THEY would have the decency to behave properly in a social setting). If there had to be a 'social event', well, at least he could set some firm limits, and make sure those limits were clearly understood.

And so it was. He asked around, got some impressions of the various individuals involved, and decided which action to take where. While he would have preferred to avoid the whole thing, and failing that, to avoid any attendance other than the ones unfortunately required to be there, it seems Richard and Elizabeth had other plans. Why, they had a list of quite a few others to be invited, and that was very disquieting.

In his mind, if this evening had to occur, AND had to occur in one of the family residences, at least the presence of any others should be avoided. It was bad enough that HE had to know of any inappropriate behavior that might take place; he really would prefer to avoid any subsequent gossip. Unfortunately, at least in his view, his niece and nephew were adamant in handling the guest list. Luckily he had a long-standing arrangement with a member of the household, which he promptly put into play.

And so it was that the impressive home of Richard Evans, nephew to Lord Ashcroft, was the setting for an evening of frivolity, including dancing. 

Not all who were invited were inclined to attend. Micah Davis read the invitation for him and his men and snorted in amused disgust. Oh, not at the invitation itself, but at the handwritten note included inside, the one specifying "that while my nephew's desire to express his appreciation is a most generous one, I would remind you that appropriate behavior is expected of all participants. Specifically, correct evening attire is to be worn. In addition, . . . " Somewhere in the short list the writer had sternly prohibited "any and all expressions of profanity, since there will be ladies attending, and it would be highly undesirable to offend them." It had taken Ainsley to talk him out of boycotting the whole "#*$#*#*# cock-up! Young Evans seems an alright bloke, but this #*&!# Ashcroft is a right #*&$#*!!!". Yes, well, that was Micah Davis for you. 

Ainsley, having a much more benign reputation (at least as far as the general observers knew, never having seen him in the field or heard him hold forth in private or with a few select friends and associates), received only the invitation and a brief, "and I am sure you will see that your men behave in an appropriate manner."

Garrison, well, he'd gotten the invitation, though it had been late in coming; indeed, if it had been any later there would have been no way they could have attended. The note that was intended for him had been hastily withdrawn when Richard's secretary, Richard and Elizabeth's second-cousin, had apologetically brought the final invitation to the attention of Elizabeth. 

"I didn't want to disturb Richard with this, but this last invitation, along with it being sent so late seemed, well, off," he'd told her, handing her the note. "Especially when your brother keeps laughing and saying how Lieutenant Garrison's team had been a sheer wonder to watch in action, and if it hadn't been for them, he never would have made it back at all. The invitation wasn't totally sealed, no postage attached, and when I started to rectify that, not wanting any further delays, I found this inside."

Elizabeth frowned, puzzled, reaching out her hand for the note. Her eyes widened as she read it. 

"Did any of the other invitations include such offensive messages, Lee?" 

She was not happy to discover that the other invitations had gone out sealed, by the hand of Grimes, acting as their uncle's agent, so she had no way of knowing, but knowing her uncle's handwriting quite well, along with his autocratic bent of mind, she rather figured there could have been. Well, she could at least destroy THIS bit of heavy-handed impertinence, and follow up with the others with a personal phone call begging their indulgence, asking them to attend. Along with having Lee personally deliver the invitation to the team at the Mansion, the mail service hardly likely to get it there in time at this late date.

And so the invitation to Garrison and his men was only the gracious one that Richard and Elizabeth Evans had originally formulated, which is why their cold reception came as quite a shock. Well, that wasn't what Elizabeth had intended, but then she never really thought her uncle would step so far out of line as to take offensive action once the men arrived, nor that Grimes would act as his confederate in that as well. 

She just hadn't realized her uncle considered his action to be not offensive but obligatory as a senior member of the family.

Yes, they were 'guests', all togged out in fancy evening clothes, except for Garrison, who was in his dress uniform. But they were guests in name only, that had been made quite clear. The stern instructions laid out by the grim-faced and haughty Lord Ashcroft upon their arrival had left no doubt about that. 

It seemed that Ashcroft was unpleasantly surprised to see them, though why that was when they been specifically invited, Garrison just wasn't sure. And not only invited, but among the several for whom the event had been specifically arranged. Still, surprised he undoubtedly was, for when Grimes, the butler, heard their names, he had looked shocked and immediately summoned His Lordship, having Garrison and his men wait in the mirrored foyer.

"Ruddy 'ell, 'is list is worse than any of yours," Goniff grumbled. At least they were used to Garrison's lists. And listening to that cold voice, that almost sneering face, the face that told them exactly what he thought of them, that had been hard to just stand there and take.

"Perhaps not the list itself, Craig, not in its entirety, though it goes well beyond what even the most prudent of men would deliver, but the attitude, most certainly. The prohibition against any 'unwarranted socializing'; it seems rather a shame to have gotten into my best evening attire to stand in the corner and do nothing."

And it was indeed 'do nothing'. Apparently while Garrison was, of course, invited to make himself at ease with the other team members, the few agents, along with the various other guests here tonight, his men were not to eat anything, drink anything, dance, converse except amongst themselves or possibly the other team members, (and even then only if approached), or touch anything or anyone. Oh, the delivery was much more refined than that, but that was essentially the message. Obviously they were all too uncouth, too unknowledgeable about the appropriate behavior expected, to be allowed to 'inadvertently disrupt' the pleasure of the other guests. 

Garrison was in agreement - with his men's disgruntlement, not with that highly-insulting list or the imperious manner in which Ashcroft had delivered it. And he'd already decided; if his men weren't to participate, he'd be damned if he would! 

He settled one shoulder back against one of the walls, like the others, not even caring that it was a highly unmilitary stance, and stone-faced, arms folded across his chest, watched the socializing and the dancing and everything else. He was of half a mind to gather his men up and head out to a likely pub, but knew the resulting grief would fall not just on him but his whole team, so he gritted his teeth and stared impassively at the glittering activity around them. They'd stick it out til someone else left, then follow right behind.

They were getting the occasional puzzled stare, from Ainsley, from the others, but so far no one had broached them on their unsociable stance. It would come; the others weren't dumb, they'd figure out something was up sooner or later, probably sooner. Garrison found some grim amusement in the fact that, like his men or not, the other teams wouldn't be all that happy about the treatment they were receiving. It would be interesting to see how the others expressed their displeasure.

It didn't come to that, though. Oh, it hit the fan, sure enough, just not in any manner Garrison would have expected.

Casino was scowling, not even bothering to hide it, when a familiar voice brought his attention back away from the dance floor. He turned to see a redhead in a royal blue dress looking at him quizzically. 

"You look like someone stole your best blonde, Casino. Are you not enjoying yourself?" Ciena asked, raising an inquisitive brow, glancing around. "This was supposed to be a 'thank you' for the teams, I thought. Yet, you and the others of your team, even the Lieutenant, are standing around like statues, not even a drink in your hands. And why is Goniff on the opposite side of the room from the refreshment table? That's not like him. I was expecting him to brief me on what to head for first, you know. And it can't be the quality of what's offered; I know that Elizabeth Evans made a special effort to make things nice for everyone."

He snorted in disgust. "Ya didn't hear? Seems they may have been forced to invite us, but they don't have to like it. Wanna hear the list Lord Muckety-Muck Ashcroft over there laid out when we walked through the front door?"

Ciena listened and started seething. "Just you guys? Because I see some of the other teams out there enjoying themselves."

"Mostly us. Davis is over there sulking, him and his two guys, so maybe him too, I dunno. I think him and a few of the others almost decided not to show up at all. Heard Ainsley had to really talk them into it. Can't blame them; heard they got THEIR warning tucked up inside their invitation; heard Davis cussed for a solid five minutes! Kinda makes you wonder if our 'special reminder' got lost in the mail and what the hell it said. Well, we got it loud and clear when we got here, that's for damned sure! Oh, he was happy enough with the Warden showing up, but Old Iron-Britches there about swallowed his moustache when he saw US standing there."

She nodded, her lips firm with disapproval. 

"So an evening supposedly to 'thank' those of the teams, the agents who pulled off that impossibility of a job, it's simply a farce, at least where you and the others are concerned. Bloody damned head-up-his-arse toff!! I have to tell you, Casino, that just pisses me off." 

Yes, so subtle wasn't a Clan trait.

He snickered, "doubt anyone's gonna think that's 'appropriate' talk for a high-class shuffle like this. Better watch out or YOU'LL be off the next guest list." 

Casino smirked, knowing just how disheartened she'd be at THAT notion! He got the impression she liked the social scene almost as much as her sister Meghada did, and that was damn all. 

"Hell, they even included Beautiful in the nix! Ever seen anything so pitiful in yer life, kid? HIM, all dressed up, ready to charm and no one in arms reach for him to spread it all out for!" 

His eyes went over to Actor standing near Craig, with Chief and Goniff not far away, none of them looking all that happy.

Her eyes narrowed as she followed his gaze. "I rarely feel sorry for Actor, but you do have a point. You know, I think my sisters are going to have something to say about this little bit of spite."

Casino's head snapped around, "they're here? Shit! Meghada is gonna be pissed for sure! I figured with her not being there when the Warden called to see if she wanted to ride up with us, maybe she got sent out again."

"She had to come up early this morning, spur of the moment, something about a broken strap meaning she had to hurry and pick up the new heels she had on order. I talked to her a bit ago and she's already not in the best mood, I can tell you! She's running late because she's at Marchant's, practicing!"

Ciena laughed. "Seems they mistook her order - exchanged a seven for a two on the paperwork somehow - and the fancy shoes she ended up with, well, they are a little more extreme than she's used to wearing. Well, perhaps a LOT more extreme! Actually, I've never SEEN heels that tall, though the shoes are gorgeous - bronze stiletto's with narrow little ankle straps! The owner of the shop was apologizing that while they were unable to provide the seven inch heels she'd requested, he DID hope the six inch ones would suffice! Six inches, Casino!!! But at least they were in the right color, so that's something, I suppose. Now if she just doesn't break her neck manoeuvering in them!" Ciena grinned. "The only time I've seen her in anything much past two inches was when she's . . ." 

There was a flicker, gold, green, then gold again in her eyes, and Casino blinked. Obviously the O'Donnell sister had just had a thought, but he had enough sense of self-preservation not to ask. Nope, by the time whatever it was surfaced, maybe he'd be out of range, hopefully.

Ciena shook herself briskly, and continued.

"But, yes, she will be here very soon, and Coura as well, though if I were you, I'd be more concerned about our baby sister's reaction. Meghada will just ignore the bullshit, make sure everyone else does too, gets to enjoying themselves, no matter what old Lord Ashcroft thinks. But Coura? Well, you KNOW how Coura can get! Ummm. Well, we'll see when they get here, I suppose. But in the meantime, I don't see why you have to sit out the fun any longer - from the looks of it, I see a few friends are here tonight. Don't go anywhere, okay?" and she was gone. 

A few words with Elizabeth got a wide-eyed look, her head snapping around to fix on the men standing against the walls, and then a hard glare sent in the direction of her oblivious uncle, sternly watching the gathering for any signs of inappropriate behavior. Then the two women started working the crowd, easily, all gracious smiles and charm, moving from one guest to another and another and another. If each encounter included a quiet whisper or two, well, the ladies DID like their little secrets. 

When the other two O'Donnell sisters arrived, in tandem, just minutes later, they were met by Ciena, who shared in a few brief words just what was going on. No, they weren't pleased in the least, you could tell, but after a quick glance around to be sure the play Ciena had initiated was already moving along, Meghada headed straight for Goniff. 

Coura had remained where she was for another minute or so, watching their older sister moving through the crowd like a bronze-clad warrior queen intent on the prize, then suddenly developed a smile that made Casino shudder. He hoped Garrison wasn't gonna have to pay for any breakage or bail anyone outta jail; NONE of the O'Donnell sisters did subtle, but Coura was, even to his mind, quite diabolical when her temper was aroused. 

He watched, hair on the back of his neck crawling as the younger sister made her way first to Meghada, then to Ciena, whispering in their ear. From that whiplash turn of Meghada's neck, whatever Coura had come up with had to be a doozy. He couldn't read her final expression, some mixture of amusement and sheer lethal intent, perhaps.

Ciena, now, there was just a grin and a nod and the faintly overheard, "well, that WAS the first thing that came to my mind when I heard that description! That's the only time I've seen her wear heels anywhere NEAR that high!"

Garrison had straightened when the young woman in the rose dress approached, inviting him to dance, and smiled appreciatively, but shook his head. "I'm not, we're not dancing. We were told by Lord Ashcroft it would be better that way." 

Yes, that was perhaps not something he should have said, but he was more than annoyed by now, seeing his guys having to stand by and watch the drinks being served, that full buffet table of appetizers being visited by this one and that, and that room full of happy, laughing people, some dancing, some just conversing. 

"Were you told to offend a lady by refusing to dance with her, Lieutenant?" came the arch question from Joyce McClaine, daughter to Colonel Alfred McClaine. "Don't make me call my father over here and have him give you a direct order! He outranks you, you know! And don't worry about your men; I have a strong feeling they will have partners of their own - a goodly number of them throughout the evening."

Garrison glanced over, only to see Ciena curtsying to Chief, encouraging smile on her face, hand extended. Chief looked at Garrison, who paused, then nodded firmly. Hell, yes! This team had been just as much a part of that mission as the others, and there was no reason for them to be shoved aside like this! And Ciena would be a good first partner, let the young man get comfortable before branching out to anyone he might not already know.

A pretty brunette, Brenda, one of Joyce's friends, was laughing up at Casino, and a nod from Garrison had their safecracker taking her up on her request for a dance.

A quick look around saw Micah Davis being cajoled by Carol, a tall blonde, and any others who'd been directed to the sidelines being taken firmly in hand by one or another of the remaining ladies. No one was being left behind.

Actor had watched, and seeing all that, had smiled and bowed gracefully to Elizabeth Evans, who'd invited him to dance, and led her onto the floor.

Goniff seemingly had skipped the dancing, at least for now, but was at the buffet table, being fed select tidbits held temptingly close to his lips by a laughing and teasing Meghada. When one of the attendants, directed by a heavily-frowning Lord Ashcroft, came forward, started to say something, Garrison would have given anything to hear what the Dragon had said in reply. Or maybe it was the cocktail fork she was holding in her hand, gently waving it to and fro under the man's nose with such obvious intent.

The man had turned white as a sheet, glancing helplessly back to the scowling Ashcroft across the room, then scurried away. Meghada's glance had followed right along, then over to Ashcroft, and if Garrison wasn't mistaken, that imperious raised brow, haughty as any queen, was accompanied by what could only be considered a faint snarl. 

Garrison shuddered, although Goniff had just grinned, glanced fleetingly in that direction before turning away and pulling her onto the dance floor in time for the start of the next waltz, though reaching back to grab one more swipe of whipped cream from one of the desserts, encouraging Meghada to eat it from his fingertip. She showed no hesitation in doing just that, laughing as she did so. 

Garrison DID treat himself to another quick glance at Lord Ashcroft's face; he wanted to make a sketch of that when he got back of the mansion. {"I'll title it 'Aristocrat Immediately Before His Death From Apoplexy As A Result of Interaction With The Impious Unworthy.'"}

There was more dancing, and no sooner than one dance ended, then each of the men were claimed for the next dance. Even Coura got into the game, though that look of sly anticipation on her face made Garrison and the others more than a little uneasy. If they'd seen her earlier, talking to the band leader and the singer, they might have considered something was up. Maybe. Though they never would have guessed what, not in a million years. 

Well, except for Goniff, who'd almost choked when Meghada had held that little whispered conversation with him over in the corner. At first he'd shaken his head frantically, his eyes wide, but then a gradual look of sheer wicked mischief replaced the incipient panic, and he nodded, slowly at first, then with utter glee. 

It wouldn't have made Garrison feel any more relaxed if he could have heard that chuckled, "old Ashcroft is gonna need to change 'is trousers, rightly enough! Better 'ave someone near Actor to catch 'im when 'e faints, though!"

The smooth-voiced singer, a man with boyish good looks and a seductive smile, announced the next dance, a tango, and there was a quiet murmur. The floor cleared, except for perhaps four couples who had looked as startled as the others at the announcement, but willing to give it a try, if perhaps a little unsure of themselves. Most weren't willing to even try, of course. The tango was known, listened to, but rarely danced, certainly not in settings like this.

None of the teams were among those on the dance floor, certainly. Even Actor took a pass; while he might know the dance, and thought he was fairly competent at it, he wasn't about to take the floor with an untried partner, certainly not in this venue. And, to be honest, in his mind the tame version of the tango acceptable in polite society was really not even worth the effort. He had even seen some try using a waltz posture and steps in a rather bizarre interpretation!

No one was paying much attention when Goniff smiled a sly smile, jerked his head at Meghada in a sure and confident summons and headed toward the open space. He paused at the edge, not turning anything but his head, holding out one hand, palm up, in something more a demand than an invitation.

A warm chuckle, a hand met his, and then they were walking onto the smooth surface, pausing as if entering an arena, then continuing on as Goniff led Meghada to the very center, the other four couples widely spaced around them.

Actor paled. "Craig, stop him! This is a tango, for heaven's sake, not a waltz! Even in its very simplest form, it is most difficult! He has no idea of what he is doing! We do NOT need him making a fool of himself or of her! Ashcroft is already livid! Something like this could make it seem he was right in excluding us!"

But it was too late to do anything; the dancers were in place, the orchestra and singer ready to start, and Garrison could only wince in anticipation.

The team was gathered close now, wondering what the hell those two thought they were doing. A quick glance would have told them that neither the smugly smiling Ciena or Coura were worried in the least, and that should have told them something.

Soon, they realized both of the miscreants knew EXACTLY what they were doing. And everyone else in the room figured it out at about the same time. 

Even the beginning positions were vastly different, two of the couples facing each other, close together, arms positioned as if they were beginning a waltz. The other two had more distance between, obviously having a slightly different style. But Goniff and Meghada??!

They were poised, Goniff in front, Meghada leaning into his back, one of her arms around him, her hand spread wide on his chest, his hand over hers. Their eyes were almost closed, bodies motionless, waiting. There was an intimacy, as if they weren't in the middle of a dance floor, but in a much more private venue. As if they were anticipating the start of something much more intimate in nature than a mere dance.

Then the music started, the singer began the song, and the other couples danced watered down versions of the tango most were at least familiar with. Soon, though, within seconds, even the other dancers noticed that what THEY were doing and what the couple in the center was doing were wildly different, and, one by one, those couples moved off the dance floor to join the others watching in open-mouthed amazement. Just as well, since THAT dance was expanding enough to require most if not all of the available space.

Somehow that side slit in Meghada's bronze dress, the one previously opening rather daringly to just below her knee now extended to the top of her thigh. She mentally blessed Coura, who'd designed and made the dress, and those clever little fasteners, so easy to do and undo, though she'd never unfastened ALL of those tabs before, at least not in public. But there was no way she could do the tango, THIS version anyway, had the dress not had that flexibility. 

Casino noted absently that she'd obviously chosen to be totally color coordinated tonight, since even her stockings were bronze, and didn't seem to have any ending, just disappearing under bronze silk. And how the hell she was making those moves in those heels he couldn't figure out! He was just waiting for Goniff to stumble over them during one of those spins or lifts or sliding motions, but that didn't happen. He couldn't have even described what DID happen, though he wondered absently how many hours it took to get THAT proficient in something that complicated. Something that sexy he wouldn't mind taking a crack at learning.

Garrison stood frozen, the grace and ease of both dancers, the sheer intensity of the dance, clutching at him at a deeply visceral level. The fact that both of their faces held not a trace of a smile, only a succession of what he would have called openly sensual and intent, even smoldering looks, that didn't help. 

"Ah, Garrison. I understand Lord Ashcroft gave you and your men a quite extensive list of prohibitions. Quite rude of him, I must say, especially considering the nature of this event. Still, I am sure you issued your own prohibitions. May I hope that they included any public consummation of the rather blatant intentions being expressed out there at the moment?"

Garrison briefly glanced over at Major Kevin Richards who was busy watching Goniff and Meghada alternately scorching and melting the dance floor. 

"I think I forgot to include that this time, Major. It's certainly something to consider for the future, I suppose. For tonight, we just have to hope Goniff's intentions toward the buffet table overcome his intentions otherwise. At least temporarily. That leaves only Meghada to worry about."

And they watched as the music came to a halt, as the two dancing alone in the middle of the room followed suit, freezing in place at the last note. 

Then their expressions changed, triumphant grins broadening both faces, as the two dancers broke into a laugh at the same time. They glanced at the audience, many of whom were now clapping enthusiastically, though there were a few still pokering up, including Lord Ashcroft. Garrison and the others got the impression that those two just might have forgotten they were being observed, at least once they'd started. Garrison, for one, was grateful they'd remembered in time to prevent anything untoward from happening.

Goniff flushed, his grin turning a little sheepish, but Meghada just let her grin turn into a smirk and whispered something to the Englishman that caused his flush to deepen, though he laughed again, and picked her up to twirl her around once, before walking her sedately back to the group.

"Ei, Warden. Turning out to be a right nice evening after all. W'at say let's 'it the buffet table before all the dainties are gone; worked up an appetite, I 'ave," Goniff suggested breezily, and since they all thought that was a fine idea, they did, no matter the glare of outrage from Ashcroft. 

They were all headed in that direction when Chief turned to Actor. "Seems he was paying attention after all, Actor. You know, when you and Pappy were teaching him how to dance for that job in Lisbon. And here I thought it was really something that you managed to teach him how to waltz; you never mentioned the tango. Woulda liked to have seen that." 

There wasn't a hint of a smile on the young man's face, but somehow Garrison just knew those half-lowered eyelids covered a world of amusement.

Actor harrumphed in annoyance, wondering just how much else of what he'd tried to 'teach' Goniff had such productive ends, and how much he really had to do with the final result. Sometimes, he just had to wonder about their pickpocket!

Ashcroft been on his way to tell that Lieutenant Garrison a thing or two or three, have the whole lot, including that outrageous woman, escorted from the house, when a voice came from behind.

"Uncle, a word, if you don't mind. In the library, I believe." 

And Ashcroft whirled to see Richard braced between two brawny men, Micah Davis and Corey Clifton. No matter the younger man was still wearing those bruises, needing the extra support, there was no give in that stern face. 

Perhaps for the first time Ashcroft saw his nephew as a grown man, not a small boy or a happy-go-lucky teenager, even as a far-too-open and easy going a young man on the cusp of manhood. He saw his younger brother in those stern eyes, and he ached at the sight. He and his brother hadn't been much alike, didn't think along the same lines about much of anything, but there had been sincere affection between them. 

It was an uncomfortable interview, and one in which Ashcroft was sincerely horrified at Richard's questioning his motives. 

"I am not really sure of the intent here, I must admit. If you have a problem with their position in society, may I remind you this is my house, and that my guest list is not your concern. There was no need for you to be a part of this evening; Elizabeth and I had it well in hand."

"I would remind you, it was because of them that I made it back alive, Uncle. Though, perhaps that IS an issue for you; perhaps you would have preferred it otherwise? If you have a problem with the result of their efforts, perhaps we should discuss it. You are most free to select another heir, you know; I have no objection, and certainly would not raise a finger to stop you. I believe my cousin Markham has equally good qualifications and would be a good selection."

"In any case, I DO believe taking your dissatisfaction out on these men is rather beneath you, wouldn't you say?"

It was a eye-opening shock to see how his well-intended efforts could have been perceived. The resulting conversation was perhaps a long overdue clearing of the air, and while Ashcroft would never be comfortable with the ease his niece and nephew felt with these people, still, he had no desire for an estrangement, and it seemed as if they were both quite willing to push matters exactly that far. 

***  
An interview between Richard and Elizabeth and their butler, Grimes, left that worthy huffed and indignant, but also now in search of new employment. 

"Perhaps you might inquire with Lord Ashcroft? Since you seem to have difficulty remembering just who IS your employer, you see," had come from a very stern-faced man, and Elizabeth was even less inclined toward relenting.

***  
And Lieutenant Craig Garrison suddenly developing slightly flushed cheeks, as well as a quick reason to be somewhere else, any time anyone mentioned the tango? Especially when Casino mentioned maybe taking lessons from Goniff? Along with Garrison's hasty rejoinder that, of course, that was up to Casino, but if he DID take lessons, Garrison felt it would be much better to do so at the dance studio over in Bayside, with a professional instructor, rather than have any of his teammates, ie. Goniff or even Actor, get him started?? Even that sly look of amusement in their pickpocket's eyes at that firm statement? Well, perhaps this will explain it. Hopefully it will, because you'll certainly never get any coherent explanation from Garrison!

The Cottage, a few days after the evening at the Evans' establishment: 

"So Casino wants me to teach 'im. Well, 'e really wanted YOU to teach 'im, 'Gaida, but I put the nix on that right off! Even the kind those others were dancing, that's closer than I'm comfortable you being with anyone else; that music just puts too many thoughts in a person's 'ead, you know? Well, cept maybe Craig, and not even too sure about that," Goniff explained, sipping at his drink, giving Meghada a wicked grin, glancing over at the third person in the cottage. It had taken awhile for them all to become comfortable enough for the easy teasing that was now a part of their private interaction, but now it was something they all enjoyed.

Garrison, in the kitchen reaching for the bottle of whiskey he decided he preferred tonight instead of the bourbon already on the sideboard, just laughed. 

"I don't have the moves for that, Goniff; I'll leave all that to you. I'd end up tripping her and sending us both sprawling. How the heck you could manage THAT performance and then trip over the kitchen tile this morning, I never WILL understand!" 

He shook his head, remembering the intensity, the passion of that dance, only imagining the skill and concentration it had taken to pull it off, comparing that success to the sight at the Mansion when Goniff and that teacup had met the kitchen linoleum headlong.

Meghada just laughed, knowing that both were just Goniff - the man able to stumble over lint, AND the one able to master the tango to perfection. She didn't have to understand, necessarily, in order to appreciate both facets, just as she did all else about him.

"Well?" she asked, "ARE you going to teach him?" 

Goniff shrugged, "don't mind trying, the basic stuff anyway, but sure as 'ell aint going to be working any of the lifts with 'im. You, that's different; you know 'ow to do a lot a of the work yourself, launch yourself off, stay balanced, and land. With Casino, even just gliding 'im through it all, I'd ruin my back for sure. Figure Actor would be a better one for the job. Still, come to think on it, Craig, think you'd enjoy it. 'Gaida could show you rightly enough."

Meghada grinned, "I've a better idea, Goniff. I'll put the music on and YOU teach Craig. I'll watch and offer advice from the sidelines."

Garrison protested, but somehow, and he never really understood how Goniff and Meghada could talk him into some of the things he ended up being involved in anymore, he found himself in the middle of the sitting room, all furniture moved back out of the way. It was still a small space, of course, but big enough for demonstrating at least a few stances and movements. Meghada perched on the seat of the piano bench moved to the doorway of the library, watching and chuckling at the sight, at the expressions on their faces, at Goniff's instructions and Garrison's protestations.

Soon, though, she'd been enlisted to help, since, for some reason, having Goniff as his partner was making it very difficult for Craig to focus. As well as somehow increasing the heat level in the room quite a few degrees, not to mention causing both dancers' pulse rate to speed up.

"This way, Craig, touch 'er 'ere, just your fingertips, then slide your 'and along this curve. Then, let your 'and tighten to support 'er through the next movement."

"Craig, feel my arm at your waist? She's gonna be doing that, nice and easy, and w'en 'er 'and reaches right 'ERE, you need to be making that next turn. Now, you two try it."

Somehow, switching partners, or at least adding another partner to the mix, hadn't make it appreciably easier for Garrison to concentrate. 

And if those stances and movements, illustrating which touches should be firm, which just barely making contact, which movements should be slow and suggestive, which crisp and clean, all to the lush evocative tango music flowing out of the phonograph, didn't lead Garrison to a serious intention to learn the complicated dance, it DID lead to some other serious intentions on everyone's part. 

What was it Major Richards had called it? Ah, yes, 'public consummation of the rather obvious intentions being expressed'. Though, thankfully, they were at the Cottage, NOT in public, and therefore not subject to those ever-so-annoying restrictions they might have encountered elsewhere. MOST thankfully!


End file.
